


Write my heart into a blason

by Matloc



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Japanese Mythology & Folklore, Kuroko with scales hnnNGGGNngg, M/M, light fluff, snake!Kuroko
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-05
Updated: 2015-11-05
Packaged: 2018-04-30 04:13:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5149862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Matloc/pseuds/Matloc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Such lovely meanderings trail the sweet scent of autumn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Write my heart into a blason

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jarofclay](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jarofclay/gifts).



Autumn arrives early this time, adorning its warm colors on trees and shivering ponds. It’s that time of the year when the sun floats down to kiss the earth, a blessing of softer skies and early stars as it lifts back its warmth into the clouds.

Seijuurou catches one with his open palm, a leaf dyed in rustic tones. It plays on his fingers before a breeze comes to whisk it away, whispering a gentle greeting to the scarlet tips of his hair. He breathes in autumn and feels its chill settling onto his tongue. It’s flavored faintly with the smell of aging bark, from where he leans against the biggest oak tree in his garden. Tinged sweet, it reminds him a little of his study: a haven carved in wood. Though it doesn’t quite belong to him.

As always, Seijuurou finds the change welcoming. The temperature drooping slowly, the lull it invites over his house, and the rustle of fallen leaves often being the only sound to keep the wind company. But he waits for a different sort of sound, like silk gliding around an overhead branch that has him raising his hand, fingers arched in a beckoning gesture.

A snake peeks through tiny embers swaying from the tree’s branches, it wastes no time sliding down his hand, with impeccable grace, as if it’s used to it. Like this has been a normal occurrence throughout its life, and the budding smile on Seijuurou’s lips certainly doesn’t say otherwise.

It starts to wrap itself around the man’s torso, burying itself in his sweater, and Seijuurou swiftly takes the opportunity to stroke the scales along its length. They’re a clear white, like a beautiful meld of white gold and pearls, reflecting the faintest hints of blue when they catch light. Cool and smooth to the touch, with life underneath thrumming gently against Seijuurou’s fingers.

“No sliding under people’s clothes, Tetsuya,” he reminds firmly, tugging a sneaky tail out of his sweater.

The snake hisses at him before releasing him from its grip. Seijuurou watches it dive into a pile of leaves, and barely a second passes before he finds himself looking at a blue-haired man in its place. “Even though you never complain when I’m in this form.”

Tetsuya looks the same age, but he is much too small in that customary white kimono of his. He resembles a bisque doll in this weather, all pale skin and reddening nose and cheeks. Seijuurou thinks him much lovelier this way, and he never hesitates to voice his opinion whenever they meet. “Is it so wrong to prefer you like this,” he replies, resting his hand on a cold cheek.

He really does like it better this way. So he can see the light falling over Tetsuya’s hair in fractions, and be it a snake’s mesmerizing nature that Tetsuya glows near ethereal under a fading sun. Perhaps because he  _is_  somewhat out of this world, always looking upon it with eyes wide and glistening with a perpetual hue of curiosity. Brimming a thousand blues as if, at any given moment, his gaze can hold the ocean and the sky and the nothingness in between.

And it is in such a moment as this, where Tetsuya nuzzles Seijuurou’s hand and smiles into the comforting warmth, that he appears most endearing to Seijuurou.

Certainly, Tetsuya must know this because he takes up an oh-so teasing tone, saying, “Maybe I should stay in this form more often then, for Akashi-kun’s sake.”

And certainly, Seijuurou must be blessed.

“If so,” he whispers, letting their breaths mingle. His free hand weaves through Tetsuya’s fingers, and a cozy wave of heat trails through the spaces. Filling up two heartbeats, one shared moment. “Won’t you come watch the moon with me tonight?”

 

**Author's Note:**

> a  _blason_  used to be a form of French poetry that basically involved tacking on cheesy metaphors to your gf’s different body parts to praise her  ~~and get laid in the process~~


End file.
